


All Thy Tears

by Fiorenza_a



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3416678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorenza_a/pseuds/Fiorenza_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,<br/>Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit<br/>Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,<br/>Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.</p>
<p>From The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám translated and adapted by Edward FitzGerald</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  


Doyle pulled the sleepy head cradled in the crook of his arm closer and planted a kiss amongst the dishevelled blonde ringlets.

''Mmmm, what time is it?''

''Time I was leaving love, Bodie'll be at my place in another half hour, probably best if I'm there to meet him.''

''Invite him down, I could do wicked things to that partner of yours.''

''Don't give him ideas.''

''Will you be back tonight?''

''You know the job, worse than the force. I will if I can'' Doyle answered, hauling himself out of bed and hunting around in the curtain induced semi-darkness for his jeans.

''Don't bother on my account lover.''

''More worried about the neighbours'' replied Doyle, pulling on his jeans and grabbing his shirt and shoulder holster.

''They're very broad minded round here.''

Doyle crawled back onto the bed to plant another kiss on the button nose under the tousled blonde locks ''Sometimes I could shoot Bodie, we could have another twenty minutes, if he'd let me pick him up.''

''Why doesn't he?''

''You're the mystery lady, aren't you? He keeps hoping he'll catch me with you.''

''So why not let him?''

''Because you're also our very own tame copper and he thinks the leak came from Higgins' mob.''

''They're CID, I'm uniform.''

''I know that love, but to Bodie it's all coppers.''

''Seems pretty tight with you.''

''Yeah, well I think that might be part of the problem, he's not overly impressed with how I got treated.''

''Knows about that, does he? Thought you didn't talk about it?''

''It's not a secret love, you know about it.''

''I was there, besides I'm not a civilian.''

Doyle choked ''Don't let Bodie hear you call him that.''

''Does he know we worked together, before I mean?''

''No and I'm not going to tell him.''

''Why?''

''Because he doesn't need to know, for one.''

''And for another?''

''You made sergeant and I didn't, can't have both of you flaunting your stripes at me.''

''He pulls rank?''

''No, but he'd enjoy it far too much'' Doyle headed for the window, pulling on his shirt and gun and climbing out bare footed onto the fire escape.

''Does this mean I get stuck with your smalls again?''

Doyle popped his head back into the room ''Bung 'em in with your stuff and you can put me trainers through while you're at it.''

''You can stick your trainers through your own machine.''

''Haven't got one and the launderette complains.''

''When are you going to join the twentieth century?''

''Nineteen ninety-nine, if I live that long.''

''Better move it lover, you've got exactly fifteen minutes left, if you don't want Bodie to catch you.''

Doyle pulled his head back through the window and scooted up the flaking green metal staircase to his own flat. He was still in the shower when he heard Bodie let himself in. ''Don't bother checking Bodie'' he yelled ''there's no one here.''

But the voice that answered him wasn't Bodie's ''That right pretty boy? And here's me thinking you'd have half a dozen nubile young tarts stashed about the place.''

''Higgins? That you? Where's Bodie? How did you get in?'' Doyle had grabbed a towel and his gun and was up against the bathroom door, trying to ease it open enough to see into the rest of his flat.

''Thick skull, your partner. Had to put a dent in it before he saw sense.''

''Bodie, you alright?... Bodie?''

''By the window Ray, little bit tied up.''

''Higgins alone?... Bodie?'' Doyle heard something break and then the unmistakeable sounds of two bodies engaged in a fight. He took a chance and pulled open the bathroom door, aiming in the direction of the noise. Another couple of paces and he could see what he was aiming at. Bodie's hands were tied behind his back but that didn't seem to be slowing him down. Higgins sent a vicious kick into his stomach and another towards his head as he doubled over, but Bodie wasn't anywhere near as incapacitated as Higgins had assumed and he dodged the kick, biting into the material flared at Higgins' ankle and hauling backwards, bringing them both down. Doyle was there a second later with a gun aimed squarely at Higgins' vital organs and enquiring mildly of his partner ''What was that?''

''Worked, didn't it?'' retorted Bodie obdurately.

''Well don't put it in the report, Cowley'll have Macklin working on our teeth.''

They were interrupted by a corkscrew mop of blonde curls arriving on the fire escape ''You boys need any help?''

''Could do with a pair of handcuffs'' Doyle replied.

''What happened to yours?'' asked the curls.

''I was in the shower'' Doyle responded, flicking a meaningful gaze towards the towel slung round his hips.

''With your gun?'' teased the curls.

''Joan, just 'cuff the man will you'' pleaded Doyle.

Joan climbed in through the kitchen window and obligingly cuffed Higgins' hands behind his back. Then she took a knife from the cutlery drawer and advanced on Bodie, observing with all the generous bonhomie of a psychopath ''I hear you don't like coppers.''

Bodie looked up from where he'd fallen with an air of long suffering patience ''You gonna cut me loose?''

Joan dropped to her haunches behind Bodie's back ''Give me one good reason why I should?''

''Because I didn't tell laughing boy about the alarms, any minute now the cavalry's going to arrive and you don't want anyone thinking you're with him.''

''Not as dumb as you look'' approved Joan as she sliced through Bodie's ropes.

''Couldn't be'' confirmed Doyle. ''Stick the kettle on while I get dressed, the boys are always thirsty.''

''What about the girls?'' Joan called after him.

''They'll fight Bodie for the biscuits'' came the indistinct reply from the vicinity of Doyle's bedroom ''my money's on them.''

When Doyle returned from dressing himself in clean clothes, Bodie and Joan were enjoying a cuppa, with Higgins sitting sullenly between them. ''Cowley's decided to pick him up personally'' Bodie informed him ''should be here any minute. It's Joan, isn't it?''

''What is'' enquired Doyle, helping himself to a mug of tea.

''The two of you, it's Joan, isn't it? Your mystery bird.''

''How d'you figure that?'' asked Doyle, seating himself.

''They're your handcuffs.''

Doyle walked straight into the trap, and examined Higgins' handcuffs.

''Gotcha, me old son'' exclaimed Bodie, grinning triumphantly.

Doyle winced as painful realisation dawned ''You can't tell one set of handcuffs from another.''

''Nowhere near as dumb as he looks'' approved Joan.

'' _Are_ they my 'cuffs?'' asked Doyle.

''No, they're mine, I think yours are still in your jeans'' replied Joan.

''In my bathroom'' recollected Doyle, nodding ruefully. ''Alright Bodie, how did you know?''

''Because he's guessed at everyone else and been wrong'' supplied Joan, on Bodie's behalf.

Doyle eyed Bodie malevolently ''If you say anything about eliminating the impossible...''

''Elementary my dear Doyle'' beamed Bodie, only to be interrupted by a familiar Scots voice.

''When you two have quite finished honing your dubious skills as a double act, do you think I could call upon you to escort the prisoner to interrogation?''

''Didn't see you there, sir'' answered Bodie immediately.

''Door open 3.7, the pair of you caught unawares, not to mention unarmed, sloppy, very sloppy.''

''Yes sir, sorry sir'' agreed Bodie contritely.

''And just where is your weapon, 3.7?''

''Lost it sir, Higgins took it.''

''Did he now?'' intoned Cowley. ''I've no time for bent coppers Higgins, any more than does Doyle here. No one knows we have you, and they don't want to know until seven thirty tomorrow morning, what shape you're in then will depend entirely on the extent of your co-operation now. So we'll start with Bodie's gun, shall we?''

''I haven't got it'' said Higgins defensively.

''I can see that, where is it?''

Higgins darted a look between Bodie and Joan.

''Out with it man'' demanded Cowley.

''Not 'til I'm in custody'' insisted Higgins stubbornly.

''I'm in no mood to be tested'' warned Cowley.

''She'll kill me.''

''Who will?'' growled Cowley impatiently.

''Oh dear'' said Joan, standing and backing towards the window ''I think I've just worked out who he's talking about.''

''What is it love?'' asked Doyle. ''Who's he talking about?''

Joan climbed back through the window ''You know, I really could have done wicked things to that partner of yours.''

Doyle stepped towards the window ''What're you talking about?''

''Stay where you are lover, this'll be easier if you stay where you are.''

Doyle took another step closer to the window ''You?''

''Bodie's right, it's all coppers.''

''But you...''

''Can't go to prison Ray, can't do that my love.''

Bodie stepped up behind his partner ''Ray, let her go mate, she doesn't want to shoot you.''

Doyle turned to his partner in bewilderment ''Shoot me? She doesn't have a gun.''

Bodie's eyes never left Joan's ''Yes she does. And I reckon there are about three bullets left in it, never had a chance to reload.''

''Yours'' asked Doyle incredulously ''she's got your gun?''

''Higgins never had the brains, but you do, don't you love? Where d'he leave it? Out there? No can't have, he was with me the whole time. No, must have dropped it outside your door when he was dragging me up here. Doyle wouldn't have seen it, he's been using the fire escape to get between flats, hasn't he?''

''I can't go to prison Ray'' repeated Joan calmly.

''There's nowhere to run sweetheart'' observed Doyle unhappily.

''One place'' answered Joan and turned, disappearing from view. Bodie responded instantly, leaping through the window and after his quarry, Doyle took a second to recover himself and was after him almost immediately. Joan fled down the stairs and into her own flat with Bodie hard on her heels, Doyle was only a couple of paces behind when the explosion blew him off the ironwork and into oblivion.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  


''It's a damn waste'' railed Cowley ''he's fit, you say?''

''Physically he'll make a full recovery George'' answered the doctor ''but he scrambled his brains good and proper. I doubt there'll be any further improvement.''

''Both of them'' sighed Cowley tiredly, getting up to pour himself a scotch. He gestured hospitably towards the doctor with the bottle.

''No thank'ee George'' the doctor replied. ''They've not found your other man?''

''The woman yes, but not Bodie. Still missing, presumed dead.''

''I'm sorry George.''

''There's yet to be a formal declaration, but with the woman's body, the nature of the explosion, there's little doubt.''

''Are you planning to tell Doyle?''

''Would he understand?''

''He's not the man he was, never will be, but he'll function. You were lucky to escape serious injury yourself George.''

Cowley settled himself back into his chair and took a contemplative sip of his scotch ''Minor cuts and bruises, the force of it went out through the window.''

''Doyle was unlucky.''

''Doyle was careless'' corrected Cowley sharply. ''He must've been in that room not forty minutes before the explosion, the bomb would've been right under his nose. If he'd been doing his job, he would have found it.''

''You always were an unforgiving old bastard George. Do you think, maybe it was meant for you? Bodie was getting close.''

''Aye, maybe'' conceded Cowley wearily ''but there are no damn excuses. He was trained...''

''The woman was seconded to CI5, he had no reason to suspect...''

''Seconded, not recruited.''

''Semantics George, she would have been cleared.''

''I don't like waste'' insisted Cowley stubbornly.

Unable to assuage Cowley's impotent frustration, the doctor tried instead for distraction ''I'll be discharging Doyle in a week or two, what d'you intend doing with him?''

''He's still CI5.''

''Only on paper George, we'll work with him, he'll be independent, but he'll always need support.''

''Aye'' sighed Cowley in resignation ''I've seen the reports. His memory's no better?''

''He remembers being on the force, joining CI5, meeting you, but he's no memory of Bodie, of the last five years.''

''It's not the first time he's been seriously injured, does he remember that?''

''No. We've told him, but it's all gone.''

''Have you told him about Bodie?''

''That he had a partner? Yes. We've given him enough to fill in the blanks George, he's a right to that, but it's unlikely he'll ever recover a spontaneous memory of the events.''

''We've access to a place in Wales, combined services.''

''He doesn't need to be institutionalised, a watchful eye is all that's required. It's a pity he's not married.''

''Would any woman want him now?''

''Careful George, your cynicism's showing.''

''Realism, Malcolm. Could he be a husband? A father?''

''With the right woman, maybe.''

''Aye'' agreed Cowley sadly ''it always comes down to that.''

''The brothers then.''

''Take the veil?'' asked Cowley with wry amusement. ''Bodie'd turn in his grave. He always was insubordinate when it came to Doyle.''

''I wasn't suggesting he join the order, but they have a few cottages, they've always offered spiritual retreat, he'd find a home there.''

''Doing what?''

''Odd jobs, it's a dwindling community, there's more work than there are hands to do it.''

''Why do I get the feeling I'm being railroaded?''

''Nothing so crass George, but it's an elegant solution, the brothers need a willing hand as much as he'll need a helping one.''

''Have you suggested it to Doyle?''

''I've shown him pictures of the place, he wanted to know if he had to cut his hair.''

Cowley sobered, realising how little of the Doyle he had recruited was left. ''I'd never be free of Bodie's ghost if I allowed that.''

''Were they that close?''

''Tweedledee and Tweedledum'' smiled Cowley fondly.

''I'm glad we don't get too many of these George'' the doctor replied with quiet sincerity.

''You'd've liked Bodie Malcolm, Doyle too, once you got past the thorns.''

''Prickly?''

''Prickly, belligerent, hot headed, aye, and principled, determined, courageous. His own man.''

''He'll never be that again George, he's too biddable. The brothers won't take advantage.''

''Is it wrong of me to grieve Malcolm? To resent the loss of a man still breathing?''

''Human, George.''

''Then I must be getting old.''

  
  


The call had been unexpected, drawing Cowley away from the business of the day with an urgency which had raised eyebrows, but few comments. Wagging tongues silenced by the wisdom of experience, baiting George Cowley had always been a mug's game.

Now Cowley sat in silence himself, contemplating the pale form in the bed before him and uncharacteristically begrudging the interruption of his meditation by the approaching doctor.

''Cowley, isn't it? CI5?'' the doctor enquired.

Cowley turned to face the interloper ''How is he?''

''Making remarkable progress, he must have been very fit.''

''Aye'' acknowledged Cowley wistfully ''they both were.''

The doctor frowned in puzzlement and consulted his notes ''I don't have a record of his being brought in with anyone else, 'course at the time we had no idea he was one of yours.''

''No reason to make the connection, explosion due to a gas leak, that's the story we put out, no casualties, no CI5 involvement. I understand he was found near the river?''

''Yes, we thought maybe a hit and run'' confirmed the doctor. ''Your people could probably tell you more than I can, but it's likely he made his own way out of the building. He can't have known where he was going, injuries like that, it was probably pure instinct. Wonderful thing the instinct to survive, helps no end in my line of country.''

''He'd have been looking for Doyle'' speculated Cowley ruminatively.

''Doyle?'' the doctor consulted his notes again.

''His partner. Thrown clear, picked up immediately'' Cowley explained curtly, his impatience with the facts at war with his native courtesy.

''Ah'' nodded the doctor ''will he be along later?''

''No, he's no longer active'' answered Cowley, palpably leaving more unsaid than spoken.

''I see'' acknowledged the doctor, perturbed by the indefinable air of melancholy surrounding the other man. ''Well there's no such concern about your chap here. We notified you as soon as he was able to tell us who he was, the injuries are serious, but he'll make a full recovery. I'll see you get his records.''

''Thank you doctor'' replied Cowley, reaching for one of the gunless hands resting on the hospital blanket.

Still troubled by the other man's demeanour, the doctor hesitated ''I'll leave you to it then, shall I? If you've no more questions?''

''No, no more questions'' sighed Cowley wearily. ''I teamed these men, but it's Bodie who'll pay the price of it.''

Guilt then, decided the doctor, offering with worn inadequacy ''Well, if there's nothing further...''

''No, nothing further'' Cowley muttered in dismissal, his attention already redirected to the man in the bed. ''I'm sorry lad, it worked well while it lasted and I'll not repent it, but I'd've spared you this, if I could.''

Bodie murmured indistinctly in response, struggling to open his eyes.

''Easy, Bodie. Easy. What is it?''

''Doyle?'' Bodie breathed.

''Not here lad'' answered Cowley firmly.

''Know that sir...where?''

''He was injured'' replied Cowley carefully.

''Bad?''

''Badly enough, he'll recover, but he won't be able to visit.''

'''S long as he's alright'' mumbled Bodie, the surge of relief ending his short battle to remain conscious.

''Close the book on it lad, for your own sake'' Cowley instructed, feeling the weight of the coming days pressing in upon him.

  
  


It was a Tuesday when Cowley picked Bodie up, not fit yet for service, or even retraining, but fit enough for discharge into the bright crisp morning. He astounded his man by turning up at the wheel of the silver capri, which now seemed as much a part of Bodie as his insolence and courage.

Bodie folded himself into the passenger seat and looked at Cowley, demanding ''What are you up to?'' It was wary and full of belligerence. Bodie no longer willing to be patient. A flight risk.

The dirty city had been washed fresh and clean by the recent rain and everywhere the earth had the peaty richness of a well aged malt. London was a surprisingly green city, she and her soot ridden sisters had belched forth a revolution but the people had never forgotten the earth, their connection to the ancient greenery. The devil had laid claim to these islands before ever there was a cross to banish him and the old, less jealous gods lurked in every corner.

He took Bodie to the park and, amongst the ducks and the anachronistic nannies of the wealthy, he explained to the man healing about the man who never would. About the absence of body, and the greater absence of mind and spirit.

Bodie listened as stoically as the great granite batholiths eroded from their tombs, unmoved by the centuries which rolled over them and into the twilight of history. He asked only one question ''When can I see him?''

''It wouldn't do any good lad, he doesn't remember you, it would only distress him.''

Bodie didn't protest, saying only ''I'm still on the squad?''

''If you pass the medical.''

''I'll pass.''

''How would you feel about another partner?'' asked Cowley.

''I have a choice?''

''In this case, I think it prudent.''

''No partner'' replied Bodie emphatically.

''He's not coming back.''

''So you said.''

''Believe it Bodie. I'll make his medical records available to you, if necessary, I can't have you hoping.''

''Life without hope?''

''I'm sorry Bodie, it's all I have to offer.''

''It's all anyone has to offer.''

''Aye, I'm sorry lad, we've none of us done anything but use you.''

''I'll be ready to start retraining in ten days.''

''Five.''

''Ten, I have things to do.''

''Don't look for him Bodie, you won't find him.''

''Yeah, I heard, life without hope.''

Bodie rose then and walked away; and Cowley let him go.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Cowley had never discovered what Bodie did in those ten days. He could have; could have had him tailed, investigated, interrogated, but he hadn't done any of those things and Bodie had never volunteered the information.

Bodie had come back a little fitter, not anywhere near fit enough, but that had been taken care of, he was fit now. Leaner, moodier, but the wit was still there, albeit darker than before. The passion had gone though, with the hope. The humanity had remained, but now there was also bitterness.

It was one o'clock on another Tuesday, sunny, warm and lazy with the scents of summer. Bodie was driving, the window partially open. They'd stopped a misguided lone wolf from blowing up a nuclear warhead in the middle of Surrey.

Bodie hadn't said anything when some of the nameless bomb squad faces had recognised him. He and Doyle had been sent a bowling ball, after their run in with a nuclear weapon in the surreal setting of a bowling alley, with a note saying that, due to the lack of moving parts, the mechanism had defeated the best talents the squad had to offer.

Doyle had guffawed and Bodie had arranged for some old chums to blow the thing to bits before they had returned it, along with a note announcing that unfortunately London had been destroyed in their attempts to defuse it and asking if anyone had news of a flat they could rent.

Some wag had responded with a cod Elizabethan warrant for lodgings in the Tower, where they could expect to be duly hanged, drawn and quartered.

Doyle had sent an apologetic refusal, explaining that the Tower had gone up with the rest of London and besides he happened to be washing his hair that day. Both sides had framed their missives and raised a glass at Christmas in honour of the sender.

Bodie had thrown the letter Doyle had framed across the squad room on one of the difficult early days. Cowley had ordered it restored and had put it away in a drawer. He still raised a toast to absent friends once a year, Doyle's absence counted with the others, the technicalities notwithstanding.

''How about lunch Bodie? I could do with stretching my legs, enjoy a bit of the countryside before some other damn fool decides to blow it up. That next turn off.''

Bodie nodded and turned off ''Bit off the beaten track this, isn't it sir?''

''That's your trouble Bodie, no sense of adventure.''

Bodie grinned and relaxed into the drive and the companionable silence of the other man.

After about twenty minutes a high stone wall came into view and Cowley directed ''Just here, I think, Bodie.''

''Where?'' asked Bodie.

''Through those gates and up to the house.''

''National Trust, is it sir? Never pegged you for the historic homes and gardens bit.''

''There's a lot you don't know about me Bodie, but it's not National Trust, at least not in the sense you mean, I want you to meet some old friends.''

''Lord and Lady Muck, eh sir? Should have known, it's a job, isn't it? Am I going to get lunch or not?''

''Yes Bodie, you'll get lunch and no, this isn't a job. You can park in front of the house.''

Bodie parked as instructed and managed to confine his surprise at the attire of the man who emerged to meet them to one quizzical eyebrow.

''Brother Sebastian'' Cowley greeted the newcomer warmly. ''This is Bodie, the man I said I'd bring along. Is Dr McDonald here?''

''I'm here and ready for my lunch George, what kept you?'' replied the doctor, appearing from the side of the building.

''You wouldn't believe me if I told you Malcolm.''

''Alright, have it your own way George, hush, hush, Mum's the word. We agreed lunch in the grounds, I believe?''

''Weather permitting'' qualified Cowley.

''Well the weather has permitted and I'm hungry, so if you'd be so kind...'' the doctor turned on his heels, returning the way he'd arrived, Cowley and Bodie following him.

The doctor led them round to a spacious lawn where a table and chairs stood, set for four. Cowley, Bodie and Dr McDonald took a seat. Bodie pulled his napkin from its ring and draped it over one knee as his companions unfurled theirs and placed them on their laps. ''Bit of alright this sir'' Bodie acknowledged ''what are we doing here?''

Dr McDonald glanced at Cowley. Cowley hesitated and then said ''You may have noticed there are four place settings Bodie.''

''I noticed sir'' confirmed Bodie ''have we been stood up?''

''No'' replied the doctor cautiously ''Raymond's a little shy, he wanted to see what you both looked like before he came through.''

But Bodie had stopped listening as a familiar mop of unruly curls caught the sun and a lithe and loose limbed Raymond Doyle, with a boyishly happy grin on his face, emerged from the french windows. He hurried to stand excitedly in front of the doctor ''Is this them? My old friends?'' Then he turned a guilelessly joyful smile on Bodie and announced ''You're not George.''

Cowley cleared his throat ''No, I'm George'' he said selfconsciously ''this is Bodie.''

Bodie was the same colour as the snow white table linen, but he rallied enough to croak ''Hello sunshine.''

''We call George 'Mr Cowley', remember Raymond?'' the doctor prompted gently.

''And not the first time 4.5's needed reminding of it'' Cowley muttered darkly to himself, under his breath.

Doyle nodded his head enthusiastically and plumped himself down in front of the fourth place setting, next to Bodie. ''I forgot. Sorry. I'm Raymond, Raymond Doyle, but some people call me Ray.'' He turned a sudden frown on the doctor ''Not Dr McDonald though, he always calls me Raymond, don't you Dr Mac?''

''I used to call you Ray'' observed Bodie softly, studying Doyle for any hint of the man he'd known.

''You must have liked me then, people who like me call me Ray. Dr Mac likes me, but he never calls me Ray. He's an exception.''

The doctor gave a wry grin ''Brother Sebastian said you'd been improving your vocabulary.''

''I like to read, I know loads of words'' responded Doyle happily. ''What's for lunch?''

Doyle chatted amiably through egg and ham salad and sugared strawberries with cream. He insisted on pouring the tea for everyone and meticulously avoided spilling a drop, enquiring politely 'milk, sugar?' whenever he filled a cup, even for the second or third time.

Cowley watched Bodie carefully, Bodie had touched very little, picking bits from his bread roll and throwing them to the sparrows on the lawn, his eyes glued to Doyle's every move.

Doyle sent an avariciously wistful gaze in the direction of Bodie's strawberries. Bodie looked down at the untouched plate and pushed it towards Doyle ''There you go sunshine.'' Doyle shot an uncertain glance at Dr McDonald. Bodie pushed the plate again, so it sat squarely in front of Doyle, and said ''You want 'em, you 'ave 'em mate, don't worry about anyone else, 's up to me who I give 'em to.''

Doyle grinned ''Thank you Bodie.''

''My pleasure, sunshine'' answered Bodie smiling, his hand moving in a long missed gesture to tousle Doyle's hair.

Doyle squirmed under the contact, catching Bodie's eyes and beaming his appreciation as he munched his way through the strawberries, complaining ''No one does that anymore.''

''You remember me doing that before?'' asked Bodie.

''Someone used to, a lot, but I don't remember who. I got banged on the head, I don't remember a lot of things. Did you know I used to be a policeman?''

''Yeah, I knew, we dressed up as policemen together for a job once. Never did understand how you got anything done in that get up.''

''Oh, you'd be surprised'' replied Doyle.

''Yeah, you said that at the time. Must be a copper thing'' allowed Bodie indulgently.

''Do you remember when I was a policeman?''

Bodie shook his head ''Before my time, mate.''

''Oh'' Doyle deflated, sinking back into his chair. Then suddenly he bounced back excitedly ''I've got a motorbike'' he announced ''I'm not allowed to ride it on the roads, but I'm allowed to use it in the fields, d'you want to see it?'' He stopped shyly and then said ''You can have a go, if you like.''

''Well'' accused Dr McDonald with pantomime archness ''that is an honour, you've never let me use your bike Raymond.'' Doyle looked sheepish and Dr McDonald relented ''It's okay Raymond, we can all see how much of a shine you've taken to Bodie. You used to be very good friends, I'm sure he'd be happy to look at your bike.''

Doyle turned to Bodie ''Would you Bodie?'' Then he turned quickly back again to ask the doctor ''That's alright, isn't it? I don't have to call Bodie 'Mr' anything, do I?''

''No you don't sunshine'' confirmed Bodie firmly ''you've always just called me Bodie, even when you thumped me.''

''I hit you?'' asked Doyle incredulously.

Bodie rubbed a hand across the lip Doyle had once split ''Yeah, but you had your reasons, we're still mates.''

Doyle suddenly flung himself at Bodie and embraced him with a vice like grip and then just as suddenly let go.

''But that's new Goldilocks'' observed Bodie affectionately ''never did that before. C'mon, let's 'ave a look at this bike of yours.''

Cowley had matters to attend to, but he radioed in and cancelled everything to give the afternoon to Bodie, it was near six when Bodie took the wheel of the car again, having given Doyle a thorough tour and allowed him to drive a few yards down the drive.

Cowley climbed into the passenger seat as Doyle courteously held the door open, startling his old controller by saying ''There you go, sir.''

''Thank you Doyle'' Cowley replied awkwardly.

Bodie was staring straight ahead and Cowley heard him intone under his breath ''He's just heard me saying it all afternoon sir, there's nothing left.'' Then he turned and waved cheerily at Doyle who had moved to see them off ''Bye Ray, you watch that Phoebe, okay mate? Bet she's only after your bike.''

Doyle coloured a little but yelled back heartily ''She likes horses, not bikes. Bye Bodie, thank you for coming to see me.''

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
  


Bodie said nothing for long time as they drove back, then finally he asked ''It wasn't just for him, was it sir?''

''What wasn't?''

''Not letting me see him, hiding him away, you weren't sure I could take it, were you?''

''You were just back from the dead Bodie, and he was very vulnerable, I wasn't sure if either of you could.''

''He didn't have a clue who I was, but he remembered you.''

''He remembered meeting me Bodie, enough to know I wasn't you, he's no real memory of his time with CI5. He remembers his time in the force, it's sketchy, he remembers chasing villains and being on the beat, but he doesn't remember much after he moved out of uniform. Dr McDonald says he's better with his time at school, childhood things.''

Bodie smiled a sad nostalgic smile ''Does Old McDonald know he's got a bird?''

''Aye, Phoebe Tiller, local magistrate's daughter. Nice girl.''

''She like him?''

''Brain damage? No, just a nice simple lass.''

''Educationally subnormal?''

''I'd thought you'd be glad for him, a life, a job, even a woman by his side.''

''Smiling benignly on their union, are you sir?''

''You'd have me do otherwise?''

''He can't be, can he? Not with him being like that?''

''Dr McDonald ensured they both knew the birds from the bees.''

''What? She's on the pill?''

''I don't have the particulars Bodie, I'm no longer privy to Doyle's medical records and Miss Tiller was never any of my concern.''

''S'pose he still remembers how?''

''He can still handle a motorbike.''

''It can't be right though sir, can it? With him like that?''

''It's the most natural thing in the world, it's hard to deny that.''

''Yeah, but what if they slip up? Have a kid?''

''Can any of us be sure that we haven't?''

Bodie took his eyes off the road for a second to shoot Cowley a disconcerted glance ''You sir?''

''It wasn't always as easy as it is now, I don't believe I got any young lady into trouble, but I was no saint.''

''You old rascal, sir.''

''I don't believe I ever scaled your giddy heights Bodie, fathers had a lot more to say in the matter in my day.''

''Surprised you're not married then, sir.''

''I've always had a fancy for strong minded women.''

''Do you sir, I mean even now? Never seen you with anyone.'' Bodie felt the heat of censure in Cowley's raised eyebrows without the need to see them ''Sorry sir, none of my business.''

''I'm not dead yet'' intoned Cowley wryly.

''No sir, sorry sir'' replied Bodie, contrite and intrigued in equal measure. Three years ago he and Doyle would have giggled like a couple of schoolboys, the minute they were alone, after a revelation like that. Doyle had always grudgingly suspected that the opposite sex still found his boss an attractive proposition. ''Not even a bloody grave to visit'' Bodie muttered to himself.

''Will you stay?'' asked Cowley.

''What, sir?''

''I never understood why you did. Once you were cleared fit, you could have gone anywhere, will you now?''

''Thought I stayed for him, sir?''

''Did you?''

''Not for him, sir.''

''Who then?''

''You, sir. Needed me, didn't you?''

Cowley studied the younger man in surprise, loyalty like Bodie's was a vanishingly rare commodity. The depth of it could be quite humbling, how much then had today's little jaunt cost the man?

''I miss him'' admitted Bodie ''every day. But seeing him like that, well you said it sir, all that time back, life without hope.''

''Aye, he's not the man he was, but he's happy, probably happier than you or I, happier than the man we knew.''

Bodie shook his head ''Not him sir, me.''

Cowley's concern flared and revealed itself uncharacteristically on his face. Bodie didn't take his eyes from the road, his body radiating tension. Cowley wondered how much he was actually seeing. Driving on instinct and reflex, his eyes envisioning countless other journeys, made with another man.

''Did I do right? I thought it time.''

''Like you said sir, he's happy.''

''And you, Bodie?'' Cowley asked with gentle tenderness.

''I can still do the job, sir.''

''I had no doubt of that, but you Bodie? You?''

''Life without hope.'' Cowley wasn't sure the response had been meant for him, or even that Bodie was aware of having made it. ''He's doing alright sir, found himself a life. Likes the work, has his own place. Did you know that, sir? He has his own pad, pays the rent, takes care of the bills? He works at that place, he doesn't live there.''

''Aye, I knew. Malcolm, and that's _Dr_ McDonald to you Bodie, was always sure he could be independent, maybe even marry, it's why I agreed to send him there. He could have gone to one of our own facilities.''

Unexpectedly Bodie let out a soft irreverent snigger ''You sent him to a monastery to pick up a bird?''

''Well he managed it'' Cowley pointed out with wry humour ''4.5 always did have an uncanny knack for finding the lady in the case.''

''So long as this one doesn't try to put him back in hospital'' countered Bodie grimly.

''You can't watch his back now Bodie, he's on his own.''

''We both are.''

''Aye, and it's a pity, you were a good team.''

''The best'' there was no arrogance or bravado in the assertion, Cowley wondered if it had even been about the job. Partnerships came in all shapes and sizes, could fracture in a thousand different ways. Bodie had taken to the shackles of this one with an astounding willingness and still mourned its chains. The freedom to be alone could be a solitary confinement.

''We go on then'' Cowley observed.

''He'll be okay sir, I've taken care of that.''

''What's that 3.7?''

''Doyle, he'll be okay.''

''Nil desperandum, eh Bodie? It's as good a motto as any.''

  
  


Cowley studied the envelope in his hands, delivered by motorcycle courier. There was probably an irony in that, if you looked for it. Cowley didn't have the energy. He was tired, bone weary and sick at heart.

He'd been at his club when they'd found him. To be delivered to him personally, not in his capacity as controller of CI5, but in his capacity as a man, a friend, a brother in arms. A trusted agent for the last act of another human soul.

How many human souls had he performed this service for? How many men? How many women? How many lives laid down?

He'd gone back to his office, to the letter Doyle had framed, smashed by Bodie when the grief and anger were still raw. He'd taken it out and set it on his desk, then he'd poured a large malt, a good one, a first among equals, and raised the ancient toast, _absent friends._

There was a tentative knock at his door and without looking up he said ''Get yourself in Malcolm, pour a dram, I could do with the company.''

''Not like you George, you usually lick your wounds in private.''

''Not tonight Malcolm.''

The doctor had poured himself a drink and now brought the bottle over, seating himself on the opposite side of the desk and pouring Cowley another.

Ghosts skittered before Cowley's eyes as two young men joined the party, merry with inappropriate wit and the joy of good fellowship and a job well done.

Cowley indicated the envelope ''This arrived today, must have been sitting in some solicitor's vault gathering dust since...och, I don't have to spell it out, you know fine well since when.''

''Aye, I know George, makes you wonder what all the striving and failing is for.''

''I'm glad you came Malcolm, you've as much a stake in this as any of us, maybe more these last few years.''

''Have you opened it?''

Cowley nodded thoughtfully ''I've read the contents, I wish you'd known them Malcolm, the way they were before.''

''You miss them George, as a team I mean.''

''They were damn good. Both of them, together, well together...''

''Irreplaceable?''

''No, no one's that, not even me, but they came as close as any of us has a right to.''

''You kept Bodie.''

''Aye, never the same without Doyle, but never off his game either. I kept Bodie, and now this'' Cowley waved the envelope in disgust and threw it down on the desk ''I can't abide waste.''

''Way of the world George, we're all just bait for the worms.''

Cowley got up and stretched limbs as weary from age as fatigue. He moved to the window to stare out into the gathering gloom. The street lights were blinking on, flickering into life, every now and then a dud, a missing tooth in the pearls of illumination. The corridors were too quiet, he hadn't bellowed a familiar couplet of names in too long. Nostalgia was an insidious vice, it curdled the present.

''You never get used to it, I'd have no use for the man that could'' Cowley observed to the reflection of himself staring into the warmth of the room. He half expected to see two other faces at his shoulder, the way they so often had been, grim faced, determined to protect him. ''Nothing you can do now men, rest easy.''

''What's that George?''

''I'll be needing your advice Malcolm, and your help, you know Doyle better than I, now.''

''The truth, George, he's not the man he was, but he's still a man, he deserves the truth.''

''Aye, Bodie thought he should be told, left instructions to that effect. Maybe he still knows him better than any of us'' Cowley crossed back to his desk and picked up the envelope, handing it to the doctor ''The last will and testament of William Andrew Philip Bodie.''

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
  


Cowley had been four miles away, at the second site, when the news had been relayed; the bullion recaptured, the villains subdued, including one prominent politician touted for the cabinet, and only one casualty. Shot in the back by the aforesaid politician while trying to save the man's life. A lion for a weasel.

Cowley had wrapped up the loose ends and headed for the hospital, by which time Bodie's confusion had been impenetrable.

He'd recognised Cowley and had struggled to sit up, until Cowley had put an end to it with a gentle firm hand ''Easy, Bodie. Easy.''

''We got them, sir.''

''Aye, we did that. You did well today Bodie, better than I had a right to expect.''

''Still managed to get meself shot, Doyle'll do his pieces, you know what he's like. Blame himself for not being there, not his fault though, sir.

''I know Bodie, I'll keep an eye'' Cowley had replied, thinking on his feet in another man's delusion.

Bodie had chuckled then, with a lightness Cowley hadn't heard in years, choking a little with the effort ''Doyle in a monastery sir, talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing. He'll corrupt the lot of 'em, any word on when he'll be back? Never been undercover this long before, beginning to miss the little devil.''

''Soon now, lad. I'll let you know.''

''Appreciate that, sir.'' Bodie had choked again and Cowley had leaned surreptitiously on the call button.

''Breathe easy lad.''

''Play me cards right with this one and I could have him running after me for weeks.'' Bodie had begun to look clammy and his breathing had acquired a disquieting rattle.

''Take it easy Bodie.''

The nurse had arrived, in answer to the summons, and in a flurry of doctors and instructions and other nurses, Bodie had been taken. A single nurse remaining behind to explain ''We're taking him to theatre, he's bleeding. Something's ruptured, there's too much noise in his chest to be certain what.''

''His heart?''

''We don't think so, his heart's as strong as an ox, can be part of the problem, a strong heart.''

A few hours later, the same nurse had flanked the doctor as he had explained, in technical detail, how they had failed to stem the tide of blood, how Bodie's heroic heart had finally faltered and stopped.

The letter had arrived eight days later.

  
  


Cowley made the drive to Surrey alone and found Brother Sebastian waiting for him ''Sad news Mr Cowley, it's good of you to take the time to tell him in person.''

''It's what Bodie wanted.''

''Yes, Raymond took quite a liking to your Mr Bodie, it's all we had for weeks, Bodie this and Bodie that. I think Phoebe got quite jealous.''

''It caused problems?''

''Wisdom is a funny thing, Mr Cowley, it is not always to be found where we expect.'' In answer to Cowley's politely quizzical expression Brother Sebastian elaborated ''Phoebe told me about it one day, when she was helping me clear the grass cuttings from the lawn. Apparently she'd tackled Raymond on the subject of your Mr Bodie and Raymond had explained to her that, no matter how much grass her horse ate, there was always more, in fact it grew better for the giving of itself. I found myself struggling to think of a better way to explain the abundance of love, renewed by the giving.''

''4.5 always did have a silver tongue in his head, when he had a mind.''

''I've asked Phoebe to be with us today, she's in the garden helping Raymond prune the shrubbery, they've been at it for hours, they could probably do with a break. Raymond is very conscientious.''

''They were the best'' responded Cowley obliquely.

Doyle was gloriously dishevelled, Phoebe pulled uncomfortably at her stained blue checked frock until Cowley smiled and said ''You look as if you've been working very hard Phoebe, I look for that in my recruits, Doyle here always worked very hard.''

Phoebe beamed at Doyle and said ''Ray always works hard, Dad likes that about him too. Did you know he mended Dad's fence in one afternoon? Mum said that was more than Dad had managed in six months.''

''I've met your mother Phoebe, local magistrate, what does your father do?''

''He likes to sit in the garden, but he doesn't get to do that much, he has to go into town. He's got a job in a big office, he says they make batteries and things like that, but I've never seen any. It's just people and telephones and lots of files.''

''A lot of offices are like that. The office where Doyle and I worked together is a bit like that.''

Phoebe turned to Doyle with eyes widened by awe ''You never said you worked in an office, Ray.''

''I can't remember a lot of things, you know that Pumpkin.''

Phoebe turned back to Cowley ''That's what Ray calls me. He doesn't call anybody else that, just me. Isn't that right, Ray?''

Doyle put a hand round Phoebe's waist and drew her close enough to plant a gentle kiss on the top of her head ''That's right Pumpkin.''

''Phoebe, I have something to tell Doy-, I mean Ray, do you think you could help me? I'm afraid it's not very happy news.''

''I always look after Ray.''

''Good, I'm glad to hear it. It's Bodie, Doyle. I'm afraid he was helping me to stop some very bad people-''

''Like when I was a copper?'' interrupted Doyle, heedless of the natural destination of Cowley's explanation.

''Don't interrupt Ray'' admonished Phoebe, looking to Cowley for approval of her knowledge of etiquette ''it's rude.''

''Sorry Pumpkin'' Doyle replied contritely, then to Cowley ''Sorry Mr Cowley.''

''Well at least you finally learned that much'' muttered Cowley. ''I'm afraid Bodie was hurt, very badly. He died just over a week ago, but I have a letter he wrote and he wanted me to tell you about it.''

Phoebe didn't say anything, but her arms slipped round Doyle in an embrace he returned.

''Bodie's dead?'' Doyle clarified in a small voice.

Cowley nodded.

''I wanted him to come and help me ride my motorbike again, he's very good, nearly as good as me.''

Cowley smiled, wondering if Bodie's competitive instincts would have accepted that analysis ''Would you like to hear what the letter Bodie left me said?''

Doyle cradled Phoebe a little more firmly in his arms and nodded solemnly.

''Well firstly, Bodie was with you when you got hurt, for a while we thought he was dead'' Cowley held up a hand to forestall the light of objection in Doyle's eyes. ''No, there's no mistake this time, I was with him when he died.'' Doyle settled back against Phoebe, gripping her even more tightly. ''After we found him and he got better, he went away for a few days. I never knew what he did in that time, but this letter explains it.''

''Perhaps you shouldn't say, if it's a secret'' offered Phoebe.

''It's a secret Bodie wanted Doy-, I mean Ray, to know if he died. That's why he gave me the letter. He had some property, valuable items he'd been given or collected, he arranged to have them auctioned. It's in trust for Doyle, so he will always have enough money. There's a house too, Doyle can choose to keep it or to sell it. I will help with that.''

''Bodie gave me a house?'' asked Doyle, awestruck.

''He told me once, he missed you every day.''

''Bodie was lonely?''

''Yes, I think he was'' conceded Cowley, obfuscating smoothly ''but he was happy on the day he died, looking forward to seeing you again.''

Doyle's chin had started to wobble and Phoebe said determinedly ''Ray liked Bodie, I was sad about that at first, but Ray likes Bodie differently to the way he likes me and there's enough of him for everybody. Isn't that right, Ray?''

Doyle sniffed and nodded, but didn't risk speaking, the tears too close to falling.

''It's alright Ray'' said Phoebe gently ''it's okay if you want to cry, Mr Cowley won't mind, he liked Bodie too.''

''Aye, it wouldn't be the first time lad'' Cowley assured Doyle gruffly.

''Bodie made Ray cry before?'' asked Phoebe, her attention taken up with comforting and soothing Doyle.

''A very long time ago, Bodie was very poorly, it made Doyle cry.''

''Did Bodie tell you that?'' asked Phoebe.

''He did, when Doyle got hurt and they had to stop working together, but I already knew. They never did get as much past me as they thought, besides Bodie had been so poorly he was a wee bit muddled over the details, but he remembered Doyle crying.''

''Do you want to go on your bike Ray?'' asked Phoebe, looking up earnestly into Doyle's tear bright eyes. Doyle nodded and Phoebe took his hand to lead him away, turning back to say to Cowley ''Ray always feels better when he rides his bike. I like horses, they make me feel better, but Ray likes bikes.''

Cowley watched them make their way across the lawn, past the abandoned detritus of pruning. His fancy conjuring an image of Bodie to walk with them, as Bodie had walked with Doyle all those months ago, clutching at the remnants of a partnership destroyed so completely. One simple summer's afternoon, all that was left of the frenetic years of blood and kinship, gone now completely. No one left to remember the brotherhood and the bickering, blown to smithereens years before.

''He remembered you today lad, it's himself he's forgotten.''

''Talking to yourself George?'' Dr McDonald asked, coming from the house to stand beside Cowley.

''You'll keep an eye on him Malcolm?''

''It's why you asked me down here, isn't it? I'll make sure he's settled before I think of leaving.''

Cowley nodded, reciting with sombre sobriety as he watched Doyle, and the ghosts shadowed about him, climb into the field where Doyle kept his motorbike _''Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, But to be young was very heaven...''_

''Wordsworth, George?''

''Can you think of a better epitaph?''

''No, I don't suppose I can.''

  
  


END


End file.
